


They'll Never Believe This At Work

by Ardwynna



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, OC POV, Slice of Life, bored teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardwynna/pseuds/Ardwynna
Summary: Commutes are boring. Until they aren't.





	They'll Never Believe This At Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pt_tucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/gifts).



It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair and worse, it was dull. Dirk Kalloway, Midgar Sector Six High sophomore, sat in the Four Thirty to Sector Seven and waited for the rest of his life to show up. 

It was so unfair. So unfair. Travis Corkoran just got himself a car. A whole freaking car. Needless to say, the girls were all over him. And there Dirk was, stuck taking the train. Stupid Travis and his stupid wrestling team and his stupid Vice Vice Manager of Product Marketing dad who didn’t make him get an after school job at Chocobo Chicken if he wanted a new phone. 

The train wobbled to a stop and Dirk had to shuffle away from the door to let the crowd exchange places. With some luck a spot on an actual seat would open up, but there was always some pregnant woman, or a little old lady with five million shopping bags. Young guys, they had to stand. He would stand on the way to work. He would stand at work. He would stand on the way from work. And nothing would ever happen.

Right on cue a pack of girls got on board, all in the latest denim jackets buttoned up to their necks, chattering about hair and makeup and which fanclub they were in. Dirk grabbed on to the overhang strap and angled himself around. They did not notice him. 

“Typical,” he muttered. The train jerked and Dirk lost his footing, lurching into some tall guy’s back. 

“Careful,” the guy said. He straightened but he didn’t even turn around. 

Dirk had to crane his head up to see, his forehead still tingling from the warm imprint of a solid brick wall. Well, fuck. This guy sure must work out. And he was tall. Couldn’t see much else about him on account of the hoodie pulled up tight, but he was everything Dirk wasn’t. Bet the girls sure noticed him. Even the hoodie had a Silver Slayer logo on the back of it. That merch did not come cheap. Hoodie guy got off at the next stop and Dirk got to listen to the girls sigh. 

“Typical,” he said again. The stop after was his. He zipped his light jacket up over his new Chocobo Chicken Team Member shirt and stepped off the train. Nobody noticed him go. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At least his new phone gave him something to do during the commute. But the ride was too short to get caught up in anything. Two late shifts from missed stops and he learned his lesson, leaving the texting for the homeward ride. 

There wasn’t much else to do on the train for the short ride though, except maybe learn the faces of the regulars. Hoodie Guy wasn’t always there, but there was no missing him when he was. The three girls always got on one stop after Dirk, all possibility of spying boobs closed off by the denim jackets they wore like a uniform. They giggled the whole while and were still on the train after he left. There was a little old lady who rode every day, and once a week with grocery bags full of cat food. Crazy Cat Lady confirmed. Dirk kinda liked that. He bet she treated the cats like her kids.

Then there was Suit Guy. Probably another Shinra Exec. Always on his phone, always loud, always busy. Hoodie Guy avoided him. Dirk watched how the guy angled himself back and away, how he kept his head down and didn’t make any sudden moves, letting nothing but his chin show out of the shadow of the hood. Maybe Hoodie Guy was secretly AVALANCHE. The possibility was enough to entertain Dirk for weeks, and he was actually kind of glad that nobody noticed him noticing. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Things happened in Midgar. It was easy to forget between classes, and gym and fried chicken. It was always in some other sector, or below the plate, some random thing on the news. SOLDIER swooped in and cleaned everything up, the President came on TV to offer condolences, eyewitnesses said it was ‘so sad’, and life went on. 

Till the day the train shook more than usual. Dirk was never sure afterwards if he had heard the explosion because the ringing in his ears carried on so long afterwards. He remembered the lurch, the falling, the sensation of the train veering off the track, his heart tripping and suspending all duties. Hoodie Guy grabbed him by the collar of the stupid bright yellow Chocobo Chicken Team Member shirt, standing him upright again when the swerving had stopped. 

It was like a scene from a movie and it felt like one. Not real somehow. Too quiet for one, just the ringing noise in his ear while mouths moved screaming and people were crying and Suit Guy lay bleeding. Maybe he was already dead. The Jacket Girls huddled together, down on the floor the way teachers taught in elementary school in case of terrorist attacks. 

A hand yanked him back up and turned him around. Hoodie guy was in his face yelling at him but he couldn’t hear a word. “I’m okay,” he said, “Dude, I’m okay, leave me alone.”  
“-to get out on foot.” Sound was coming back. The soundtrack matched the scene now and it wasn’t like the movies at all. No wailing. No hot girl screams. Just whimpering and sparks and the far off continuing groan of metal. 

“Use the emergency tunnels,” Hoodie Guy was saying, shoving Dirk towards the door. 

“Emergency tunnels?” Dirk grabbed onto the post and hung back. “There’s emergency tunnels?”

“They run all through the transit system,” Hoodie guy was saying. “There’ll be lights. Go!”

“The door’s not even open, man.” Dirk hung back. There were fallen wires, and there were stories about the electrified rail. None of which mattered to Hoodie Guy apparently, who kicked the door right off the train. “Oh, shit,” Dirk said. 

“Go,” Hoodie Guy said and flung Dirk across the gap. 

“The fuck, man!” Dirk stumbled forward on the landing, twisting his ankle but not as badly as he smashed his face into the wall on the far side. “The hell?” He looked back. Hoodie Guy filled the sheared doorway, all black shadow and frown.

“That’s a big gap,” one of the passengers was saying behind him. “I’m not sure I can make it at my age.”

Dirk shook himself and went to the edge, veering out onto the warped rail as far as he dared. “Come on,” he said, “I got you.”

Hoodie Guy picked the Cat Lady up by the waist and swung her out over the gap. Dirk reached out. “I got you,” he said, “I got you.”

She found her footing better than Dirk thought she would and Dirk caught her outstretched hands, guiding her in. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Thanks, dear,” she said. “You wouldn’t know it now but I used to dance. Ballet, you know, way back in the day.”

“You don’t say,” Dirk said, steadying her as she stepped across, broad in the middle but light on the foot. He looked up at Hoodie Guy who was busy helping Suit Guy across. The gash on Suit Guy’s head looked nasty but it wasn’t gushing. He practically bodyslammed Dirk back onto the platform, but Ballet Lady braced him up from behind. 

“I think I see those emergency lights down that way,” she said against his back. 

“Good,” Hoodie Guy said. “Stick together and follow the tunnels away. They’ll lead out eventually.” He nearly threw one of the Jacket Girls at Dirk. 

“Incoming!” she yelled. “Thanks, Chicken Boy.”

“Huh?” Dirk didn’t have time to process it. 

“Me next!” hollered the blonde one and jumped across the gap. 

“You must dance,” Ballet Lady said. 

“Gymnastics,” the girl said, swinging off past Dirk into Ballet Lady’s waiting embrace. 

“Up here, Chicken Boy,” someone called. The last of the Jacket Girls was already dangling in mid-air, suspended by Hoodie Guy’s stupendous grip. “I don’t dance or nothing, you’re gonna have to do some work.”

Dirk shuffled out on the rail and grabbed her arms, steadying her for the descent to footing. “Is that everybody?”

“Almost,” Hoodie Guy said, and the people on the platform grabbed Dirk’s shirt to steady him as he stepped out further. They swayed like a tide, back and forth, reaching out and pulling in. Gymnastics Girl got up on the other rail to help. 

“That’s it,” Hoodie Guy said. “Get moving.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Ballet Lady asked. 

“I have work here,” was all he said, turning to the door between carriages. Lights flickered in the cars up ahead. There were still people inside. 

“Dude, don’t you need-" 

Hoodie guy kicked a hole in the door. The hood fell back as he did. Silver hair spilled down. 

“Ho. Lee. Shit,” Gymnastics Girl said. “Nobody’s ever going to believe that.”

Sparks fell up ahead and behind them. “We better go,” Suit Guy said. “That’s his job. He’ll be fine.”

“He already is,” Ballet Lady said. The Jacket Girls giggled. “Come on, now, girls,” the woman said, “Old doesn’t mean dead.”

Suit Guy rolled his eyes at Dirk, who was too busy staring to care. It was the last of the Jackets who moved him from his spot. “Come on, Chicken Boy, don’t get left behind.”

Dirk scowled. “Why am I ‘Chicken Boy’?” he said. 

“Cuz you work at Chocobo Chicken,” she said, reaching up for the top button of her jacket. Dirk wasn’t too far gone to hope for cleavage, but there was a common, familiar sort of red shirt underneath. “We all work at the Bahamut Burger one stop down from you.”

A grin split Dirk’s face. “Cool.”


End file.
